Dance of the Curse
by TheHinkyPanda
Summary: Moe French remembers who he is and reaches out to the only person who can help him locate his long lost daughter. But when Jo French is found and released, Gold finds it difficult to keep his end of the bargain: leaving her alone.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **This is NOT the sequel to "The Curse Breakers"...I'm sorry. I'm actually waiting for the summer to write that one. But this was an idea that olverabonk gave me and I thought I would run with it. Insert pithy disclaimer here...I own nothing nothing.

**Dance of the Curse**

**Chapter One: The New Deal**

Moe French has been staring at the same ceiling tile for the last forty-five minutes but the images behind his eyelids do not change. The words that are ringing in his ears drown out the various machines that are beeping and whirling by his bed. Most patients in this hospital were caught in that ethereal world between slumber and wakefulness while he hung in the twilight of two very different lives.

_You shut her out..._

His arms throbs with the memory of the beating, the "caning" as the nurses are calling it with subtle smiles. The irony is not lost on him and perhaps he will be able to smile in a year or two. However, his thoughts are focused on the words that were spit at him between the blows.

_You had her love, and you shut her out._

He always had a feeling Gold's harshness towards him revolved around a woman, an assumption he held to until Gold's accusation of parenthood. And that was the trigger...It was about a woman, a very special one at that.

Belle.

Moe closed his eyes, tears slipping out and skidding down his face only to be absorbed by bandages. His throat constricted, sore from the cane being pressed into it and irritated by emotion. Memories of that other life, mixed and mingled with this one and he had to concentrate on separating them out and ordering them properly. The pain medicine was being both a help and a hinderance. It relaxed him enough to gain access but not enough to organize. So, he settled on the images that were granted to him after so many years.

He gets flashes of her as a child, climbing trees in satin dresses and her mother's pearls. A ten year old, yelling at the cold marble of her mother's headstone, demanding Hades to return what was hers and scolding him for theft. The time she tried to keep up with a fox hunt, fell off her horse and broke her arm. And the young soldier, Gaston, who brought her home, cushioned in his thick traveling cloak while he stood shivering on the palace steps waiting for the doctor's assurance she would heal.

But then the images start to change. Red fills the skies, and whispers of war coming to their sea-side land start to creep along the villages. Then the horrors begin and his girl grows quiet, angry and begins to wear her satin gowns like they were armor. The day comes when she saves them all by going off with the magic man from the Western Mountains. He was so afraid he would never see her again after that day and he didn't.

Not until the Queen of the Northern Forestlands arrived in his kingdom with a coffin. She had heard the story of the poor girl trapped with the monster. She went to see what she could do to bargain for the girl's freedom but she had arrived too late. That morning, the girl had thrown herself from the tower in a desperate attempt to free herself of the monster's clutches. Out of the kindness of her heart, she had brought the body home to rest since Rumplestiltskin wanted nothing more to do with it.

Moe opens his eyes and goes back to staring at the ceiling tiles. The Queen of the Northern Forestlands, her face was so clear and it was also that of the Mayor. Gold, Gold himself was Rumpelstiltskin and it was enough to put a fire in Moe's chest that he hadn't felt for a long time. He had been a Merchant King, not a conquering one, but he certainly felt bloodlust now towards the man who had driven his daughter off a tower. He would burn an entire range of mountains to avenge his daughter's death.

_You were her father...This is your fault, not mine._

And he wonders why it's his fault that she's gone. Did Rumplestiltskin blame him for letting his daughter leave? Surely, after the first month did the monster not know that Belle had a mind of her own? How was it his fault? Moe pushed the button on the bed that raised him into more of a sitting position. His broken ribs protested but it allowed him to reach the phone by the bedside. He had Gold's number memorized, realized it was a stab in the dark but the satisfaction of waking the pawnbroker at 3 in the morning made the gamble worthwhile.

* * *

The dreams were back with a vengeance. Twenty-eight years and they had stopped for the most part but his run in with Moe French, the frantic search for that damned tea cup, had awakened those brilliant and lovely nightmares. Every time he closed his eyes now, he saw the brilliant blue of hers. Her smile raked deeper furrows into his heart and he would wake up in a quiet house, with an empty ribcage and burning eyes.

He was having one such dream, of Belle being her bright and beautiful self but just far enough away that she slips through his ever reaching fingers. Her laugh is ringing through his head when he realizes it's not her laugh but his phone. He looks at the clock, a garish red light to see it's barely past 3 in the morning. Fearing someone has finally gotten the nerve to burn his shop to the ground, he braces himself for Emma Swan's voice as he answers the call.

"What?" It's three am and manners are completely foregone.

There's silence on the other end with just a faint beeping in the background. "Gold?"

He scrubs a hand across his face. "Yes." There's more silence and just as he's ready to hang up, the words stop his world from spinning.

"What happened to her?" The voice warbles, accented and thick with emotion and painkillers. "What happened to my Belle?"

Too many thoughts vie for space in his sleep addled mind. Moe French remembers his life from the other world. He remembers his daughter, but he doesn't remember what happened to her. Soon he's gripping the phone so tightly he can start to hear the plastic give under the pressure. "What do you mean, 'what happened to her?'"

"She went away with you and she came home in a coffin." The beeping is getting louder in the background. "What did you do to her to drive her to her death?"

The odd thought that this is just a bad dream crosses his mind but if it's not, he has a chance to get answers. "The last time I saw her, she was walking out my front gates, sound and whole, released from her contract with me."

"That wasn't what I was told."

"And what, exactly, were you told?" Gold had a good idea what French was going to say but he needed to hear it himself.

"The Queen of the Northern Forestlands said that s-she threw her-herself off your tower."

"I see," Gold said tiredly. "Would you like to know what I was told by the same Queen? That you locked her up in a tower, sent in clerics to cleanse her soul and then she threw herself off _your_ tower."

It doesn't take long for French to put the pieces together. "Does that mean...could she be..."

As if he needs another reason to hate the witch on the hill. "Yes, she very well could still be alive." And he curses himself for not thinking about it sooner. But this is the problem when emotions become involved in a situation, they blind and bind you. They warp and twist until you're convinced the sky is green and the grass is blue. Blue...the same sky color of her eyes.

"Let's make a new agreement, Mr. French."

And by the time dawn breaks over Storybrooke, Gold is dressed and ready for the first day of his second chance at life, sipping tea from a chipped cup.


	2. The Art of Deal Breaking

**Dance of the Curse**

**Chapter Two: The Art of Deal Breaking**

"_She'll come to you. Just wait." _

That was what Gold told Moe during their early morning phone call. The pawnbroker was certain that Regina would seek Moe out and it all came down to that chipped cup. Always elusive, Gold hinted that the Mayor had gained a piece of knowledge that she was going to wield and it was somehow contingent on Gold's reaction to the missing piece of china. So that's what Moe did, he waited through the early morning hours, wondering how he came to be so firmly wedged between a rock and a hard place, hoping to play one against the other and still gain his daughter in the end.

The sun rose, inching its red and orange self over the sleepy little town that he had thought of as his home these last 28 years of limbo. In the other life, he had heard whispers of a dark curse that was going to sweep across the land, stealing everyone's happy endings. His daughter was dead, or so he thought at the time, and his concern with such a thing was nonexistent. He was a man who had lost his happy ending a long time before Regina's curse rolled through his corner of the world. Looking out at the clock tower, the diner and every other place he frequented every day, it just didn't look like a curse incarnate. Perhaps, that was what made it so dangerous.

And as the morning progressed, the epitome of inconspicuous danger did come to see him. Nine o'clock sharp, Mayor Regina Mills stepped in his hospital room, just as Gold said she would. She was all razor blade smiles and expensive silk.

"Good morning, Mr. French. I hope I'm not disturbing you."

He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from reminding her that he himself was a merchant King, not a barely scraping by florist. "Not at all, Madame Mayor. What brings you here?" And he prayed silently it has something to do with his girl.

She stepped into the room and closed the door quietly. Her movement through the small hospital room was effortless and graceful...regal, even. She sat primly on the cheap plastic chair, all the while keeping that easy, friendly smile on her face. "I have some good news for you, Mr. French."

And by gods, Gold was right so he does everything that the weaselly pawnbroker told him to do. He sits up straight, keeps his eyes trained on the bridge of Regina's nose or her mouth. He mentally repeats what each smile means: off to the right side, she's plotting and if it's to the left, she's angry. Full smile means she's leading him into a verbal trap or worse, has already sprung it, catching him unawares. If he can't keep his hands still, he folds them. Currently, they're white knuckled on his lap.

But Moe French realizes he is knight with a wooden sword and no armor, going against a fire-breathing dragon. Gold should be here, Gold should be the one handling this situation but that was not part of the deal. Moe agreed to be the puppet and let Gold pull the strings. The payoff would be huge though, Belle would be returned to him and Gold would leave them be. He doubted the other man would follow through with his end of the bargain but that was another dragon, an older one, to slay an other day.

"I could use some good news, Madame Mayor."

She lays a friendly hand on his. "I remember when your daughter went missing a few years ago. I'm sure you heard that not that long ago, my Henry went missing for a few hours." The smile has faded, a touch of sadness appearing on her face. "It was the longest few hours I have ever gone through and it started me thinking of you and your daughter, Joelle."

Moe tried to act as if his skin wasn't crawling because of her touch so he shifted in the bed and cradled his arm that was in the sling instead. "It is certainly a heavy burden to carry, not knowing what's happened to your child."

"It is," she agreed, looking very convincing in her empathy. And then she smiled sweetly again. "Which brings me to my good news. I found Joelle."

He didn't have to fake the tears that welled up in his eyes. "Is she alright?"

The smile wavers slightly. "With some love and therapy, yes, she will. Someone found her wandering out in the woods apparently, disoriented and babbling. She was admitted to the psychiatric ward here at the hospital. She wasn't coherent enough to give her name so they logged her as Jane Doe. That's why you couldn't find her."

He focuses on the fact that she's alive, his Belle is alive, and not the flimsy excuse of a wrong name that kept them separated all these years. "When can I see her?"

"Soon, very soon."

There's a deal to be made here, he knows it. He was a businessman after all and it was high time he started behaving like one. "What do I have to do to get her back?"

And he sees the smile sharpen, her eyes darken and she becomes the edge of a sword, a human weapon. "Just one thing, something I'm sure you were going to do anyway. After all, justice must be served and since the Sheriff did bear witness to the incident..."

"You want to make sure I press charges against Gold." That was not part of the deal struck between him and Gold that morning. In fact, if Moe didn't press charges, Gold would leave his daughter alone completely. But if Gold was locked up, there was a certainty that he wouldn't be able to interact with Belle again.

"I want to make sure that the people in my town know that even someone like Mr. Gold isn't above the law. You suffered, wrongfully, by his hand and he deserves to pay that price now. Don't you want to make sure your daughter is protected from that kind of monster?"

He tries not to react at the word "monster" but curiosity gets the better of him. "What do you mean? You think Gold would come after Joelle?"

Regina looks slightly surprised. "I think it's a very strong possibility. It was no secret just how smitten he was with your beautiful daughter, half the town was in love with her." She leaned forward in the chair, lowering her voice to a whisper. "I spoke with the person who found her and they said that the woods where she was found was directly behind Mr. Gold's house. There's no telling what he did back then or what he could do now. All I want is to make sure that your daughter is safe."

And here came the white knuckled, tightrope walk of making deals with devils. When you play one against the other in hopes they'll devour each other and forget about you. "I'll speak with the Sheriff today about those charges."

And Regina sports her double-edged smile again. "And I will have your daughter standing before you in no time."

* * *

Gold doesn't go to the new conference that evening. He doesn't trust himself to contain what little magic is left to him in this nightmare of a reality. Especially when he watches the news broadcast and sees Regina standing on the hospital stairs with her arm around a miserable looking creature with the bluest eyes. Three lightbulbs and a vase shatter before he even realizes what he's done. No, staying home and watching the broadcast was the best choice.

He completely ignores Regina's speech, his eyes focused on the slip of a girl standing next to the Mayor. Belle looks nothing like he remembers and yet there is enough familiarity to take his breath away still. Her hair is not careful curled and glossy but hangs in long, dull waves. Her stature was round-shouldered, broken and timid. There was no bravery found in this girl now. But her eyes...her eyes are still the same blue. And whenever he closes his eyes, he can still see her sitting on his table in that blue dress, sly smile on her lips and his heart feels like it's shattering all over again.

There's a knock at his door and he figures it's Regina, coming to gloat. He turns off the television and arms himself with sharp-tongued barbs and insults to hurl at Her Majesty as he makes his way to the door. But when he opens it, it's not Regina but Emma Swan and the insults die on his tongue. He doesn't want to make an enemy out of the savior.

"Sheriff Swan, what a nice surprise."

She gives him a straight mouthed look. "Do you mind if I come in?"

He steps aside. "Not at all."

As Emma steps through the door, he sees the glint of handcuffs under her jacket and he swallows the rage that has blossomed up in his chest and burns his throat. He should have known better than to trust Moe French to stand against Regina.

"Shouldn't this be the other way around, Sheriff?"

She gives him a suspicious look. "What do you mean?"

"Don't I need to be outside my home in order to be arrested properly?"

And she frowns slightly. "I wanted to ask you something, off the record and out of the public eye."

He taps his cane impatiently on the hardwood floor. "Go on then."

"Was Joelle French the 'her' you were yelling about when beating Moe French?"

"Once again, Sheriff, you heard wrong."

"Cut the crap. If you attacked him because you thought he had harmed his daughter-"

"He didn't harm her, now did he, Sheriff Swan?"

And she smirks. "But you didn't know that until your little phone chat with him this morning."

"Tapping my phone now, are we?"

"Don't have to. Do you know what I did before I came here?"

He did, he knew very well what she did. "You were a bondswoman."

"Yeah, I was. I've looked a lot of scum bags in the eye doing that line of work. I can recognize a low life swindler from fifty yards and guess what, you're not one of them."

He laughs. "Really, Sheriff? There's a whole town here that would gladly disagree with you."

"Let them. I was there that night when you were beating him, they weren't. If you were acting in the best interest of Joelle French-"

And he sees where her train of thought was going. "The charges will be lesser than the charges that are being brought against me." And knowing Regina, he was most likely facing attempted murder charges.

"All I need is a statement from you stating that you thought by beating information out of Moe French would help save his daughter, you get to sleep in your own bed tonight."

Moe French betrayed him, broke their deal by filing those charges. The image of Belle, thin and twisted inside herself sprang to his mind and the possibility of running into her on the street sometime soon was enough to soothe the betrayal slightly. He could never establish a relationship with her again. It would be too dangerous for the both of them and he would never put her in danger again. "Alright, Sheriff, I'll give you that statement as long as you promise not to tell everyone that I am not, in fact, a low life swindler."

And she grins like she's won a battle. "I didn't say you weren't a swindler."

"Fair enough." He smiles in return, content with the knowledge that Belle was alive, he would be free to make sure she was protected from a distance and exact a slow revenge on Regina for the heartache she had caused all of them.


	3. Old Flames

**Dance of the Curse**

**Chapter 3: Old Flames **

She's been free for three weeks now: two stuck in the hospital so she could be thoroughly evaluated and one at home with her father, and she still feels like a prisoner. She has no memories, nothing to pull from whatsoever, and all the space in her mind is claustrophobic. Dr. Hopper thinks it's due to some tragic or horrific occurrence that has happened and her mind is protecting her. She tends to quietly disagree, certain she would know or feel if something horrible had happened. Instead, her mind is just a white, clean slate and she finds herself able to start fresh but it still feels restrictive.

Her father looks at her with nothing but love and adoration with a sharp streak of protectiveness. Every time the bell over the front door of the shop rings, he's sharp eyed and tense until he sees who it is and then slips back into his cordial self when he sees it's not a predator coming to take her away. She wishes she knew what she had done to earn such reactions from him or if it comes standard to all fathers, this protective adoration. But without memories, there is no way for her to understand these reactions that turned him into a still injured warrior on her behalf.

The sun is shining brightly through the store front of her father's flower shop this particular morning. The small store area is actually the front family and dining room of the three bedroom rancher that is also their home. Well, as close to home as it can feel for her. She's been practicing flower arrangements since she and her father had been released from the hospital but there's only so much she can learn from the outdated magazines lying around the shop. She's frowning at a compilation of roses and lilies when the bell above the door chimes and she hears her father's hearty laugh. A friend, a good one from the sound of it.

"Jo, come here for a minute, please."

Grateful to leave the flowers, she wipes her damp hands on her apron and steps out from behind the buckets of flowers that she normal hides behind. Space frightens her, space in her head and space around her, and she feels comfortable and safe tucked behind the white plastic buckets of tiger lilies and carnations. There's a tall man standing next to her father, broad shouldered, dark hair and deep set eyes. And a smile that was contagious. Almost.

"Hello, Jo." He shifts a glance over to her father, who just beams. "I don't know if you remember me. I'm Geoff. Geoff LeBeau."

She accepts his offered hand because it's expected of her and she smiles for the same reason. "Nice to see you." She's come to learn that people react better to that turn of phrase instead of "nice to meet you" when they've obviously already done so despite her lack of memory.

"Geoff is the head football coach at the high school," her Dad explains.

She continues holding her plastic smile. "That's very nice."

Her father is the happiest she's seen since they've come home. "You and Geoff used to know each other."

And now she understands his excitement. A friend from her past, possibly more, but she'll start with the friend part first. Someone who hopefully can jog her memories, remind her who she really is in this place.

"I'm actually free right now," Geoff glances over at her father briefly, asking permission, "if you wanted to get something to eat. Catch up on things."

She's not ready to socialize, not just yet but her father accepts the invitation for her.

"I'm sure she'd love to get out of here for some lunch, wouldn't you, Jo?" He takes the apron from her and trades her a down jacket. "Go have fun, sweetheart."

She's not sure what they even have to catch up on since she only remembers the last three weeks of her life so she takes comfort in the thought at least it will make for a short lunch. She smiles bravely, allows Geoff to help her awkwardly into her coat, and pats her father on his unbroken arm. He means well, she knows that and she can't feel anger towards him for this unwanted lunch excursion. Her father was quite pleased to see her off with this man, even though he was a stranger to her but this was something that she could do to earn some of that adoration she sees shining through his eyes at the moment.

* * *

It had been a full week and no matter how often he made excuses to be out and about on the streets of Storybrooke, he still hadn't seen her. He knew Belle, no _Joelle_, had to have ventured from her father's home at some point but then again, he wouldn't blame Moe French for locking his daughter up this time. The man had learned the hard way that there are monsters in the world, this one and the last. Monsters is various shapes and forms, with niceties and promises but eventually take away everything you hold dear. He's so lost in thought that when he passes by Granny's Diner, he bumps into someone rushing out of the establishment.

"Oh, I'm so sorry."

Gold frowns and straightens his coat, nastiness rising easily onto his tongue. Then he looks up and sees _her_ and swallows all the evil words he was about spout. "No matter."

She's fidgety, her hands fluttering over his lapels to straighten his scarf but never actually landing on the fabric. "I just wasn't looking where I was going. Are you okay?"

"Quite alright." The two words come out as a croak. He's never been better actually. He's standing just a few feet from her, his Belle, and she's not crying, angry or hurt. Physically, she's whole and healthy, untouched by those fictitious scourges and flaying. Her memories are nonexistent but that is probably for the best. But then the cold seeps through the fabric of his expensive clothes and he's suddenly hyperaware of the people in the diner watching him. They're probably making bets on how long it takes him to make the poor French girl cry. Which looking at her properly, he notices she is already close to tears and looks so terribly lost.

"What's the matter, dear?"

She tries to laugh but the facial expression only causes a couple of tears to fall down her rosy cheeks. "It's stupid."

"Nonsense." His chest constricts and he holds his breath.

She looks around and drops her eyes to the sidewalk. "I can't remember which way is home."

He releases his breath with a short laugh. "Ah, well, that's a problem that I just happen to have a solution for." And just like that, he feels like he's back at the Dark Castle, coaxing a homesick caretaker out of the broom closet to show her the library she hasn't stumbled across yet. He offers her his arm and reluctantly, she lightly takes it and wipes her tears away with her other hand.

"You must think I'm silly," she finally says. "Can't even find my way home."

"I don't think you silly at all. But how did you come to the diner, dear?"

"I went with an old friend for lunch. At least, I think he was a friend. My father seemed to treat him like one."

Gold can figure out who that "friend" is and has to applaud Moe French for his offensive move. "And who was this friend?"

"Geoff LeBeau, the high school football coach."

"Ah yes." And Gold tries not to grind his teeth. Geoff LeBeau was Gaston, tall, handsome and Belle's once betrothed. It shouldn't surprise him that Moe, with his memories, would seek the man out immediately and make sure his daughter was married and happy with the man he had picked for her a lifetime ago.

"He had a call that one of his players had an accident and broke his leg so he went to the hospital to be with them."

Gold gives an exaggerated look of shock. "And he left you all alone to fend yourself in this town? You could be snatched up by any type of monster." Like himself.

She gives him a shaky smile. "Well, you don't look like a monster."

"Careful, dearie, appearances can be deceiving."

She "hms" quietly and doesn't say anything else until they're a block from her home.

Gold tries to savor the moments of having her so very close once more because he knows this can not happen again. A chance meeting on the sidewalk and offering her aid when she needs it is one thing but he can not be seen with her again. There are too many eyes in this town that would be more than happy to leak this back to Regina. He knows from experience and observation just how much she likes to play with other people's toys just to break them. She spirited Belle away from him once and he won't give her an excuse to do it again. So he stops on the corner of the street where she lives and gently takes back his arm from her grip.

"I believe your home is the one with the florist sign in front of it, dear."

She worries her lower lip. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." And he fights the urge to wrap his arms around her, pull her close and apologize for everything that has transpired between them. He wants to kiss her again, have her drive the coward out of him. But instead, he watches her walk down the sidewalk, round-shouldered and timid, and realizes there is no hope for them when they are both cowards. And that is why this can never happen again.


	4. Past and Present

**Dance of the Curse**

**Chapter Four: Past and Present**

As Jo opened the door to her home, her father was on his way out, struggling to get his coat over his casted arm. He looked alarmed and his fear started to affect her. But before she could say anything, he released a forceful sigh.

"Ah, Jo. Thank God."

"What's wrong?"

"Geoff called from the hospital, wanting to make sure you got home alright."

Jo helped her father out of his tangled mess of a coat. "That was thoughtful of him."

"Yes, I thought so." Her father's breathing had evened out now. "You two were very close at one time."

She slipped out of the her own jacket, hanging it up next to her father's. "Yes, I gathered as much." The way he looked at her, impulsively reached for her hand. He treated her like she was his and even though he wasn't rude, it still made her skin crawl. "But I don't remember him."

Her father followed her as she retreated back into the sea of white bucketed flowers. "But you remembered your way home. That's something."

She hid her embarrassed flush behind the dozen red roses she had been working on before lunch. "Um, actually, I didn't. But someone was helpful enough to guide me."

"Oh good. Who was it? The Sheriff?"

"No, it was a man." Jo frowned. "Come to think of it, he didn't tell me his name."

Her father had that serious, protective gleam in his eye again. "What did he look like?"

She focused on the flowers in front of her, suddenly not wanting to share her strange savior with anyone. It was the first memory, first experience that was truly hers. So she shrugged instead and hid her eyes in the rose petals. "Average, I suppose. Nothing really stands out about him. He was kind."

"Did he have a cane?"

Jo was glad her face was obscured by the flowers. "I, uh, I don't remember."

"Well, if you ever see a man around town with a cane, you stay away from him." He moved the flowers aside to see her properly. "Jo, promise me."

"Cane. Got it." She smiled and that was enough for her father, who moved back towards to the front of the store. She settled on the rickety stool in front of the arrangement counter and stared at the red rose and white lily concoction that she had been working on before Geoff had whisked her away. Shaking her head, she pulled the lilies out. It just didn't look right, like blood drops on pristine snow. Unsure of what to replace the lilies with, she just sat back and let her mind wander.

It wandered to the man who had come to her aid that day, a man who had treated her with warmth and kindness, called himself a monster and yes, walked with a cane. She didn't understand why her father didn't want her around him but she supposed that was just the protectiveness that was speaking. She looked into his eyes, held onto his arm and felt nothing but comfortable, more comfortable than she had ever since being released. It was as if she had found her little place in the world, next to the man her father wanted her to stay away from. It was a silly thought, really. He was several years her senior and she didn't even know his name.

Her eyes lighted on the deep gold gladiolas that were sitting by her feet. Gently pulling a few stalks of the flowers out of the bucket, she turned back to the roses and started dropping the tall flowers in between the deep red roses. Sitting back, she appraised her work and found that the tall, yellow spires were exactly right for the red roses.

"That's lovely, Jo."

Yes, red and gold did look nice together. She would have to remember that for the future.

* * *

Gold expected an irate call from Moe French, but by midnight, it never came. The idea that Jo didn't tell her father about their meeting seemed to be the most likely explanation. He really shouldn't be so surprised though. Here, she may be a mild-mannered, shy and amnesic flower shop girl but Belle was still underneath her skin, that steel was still in her spine. As he laid in the dark, trying to find sleep, he remembered another time when he thought she would turn on him and didn't.

It wasn't very often that someone caught Rumplestiltskin off guard but that winter day, his thoughts were elsewhere once the deal was struck. He was wondering what he was going back home to: more torn curtains, perhaps? A fire damaged kitchen? Maybe his little Belle had found a way to flood the washroom this time, that was something she hasn't done yet. Just as he was about to disappear from the tavern and reappear at his own front gates (the only sure way to make sure no one followed him), someone had planted a dagger in between his ribs.

He had made the magical transport just fine, but ended propped up against the gates. A momentary panic seized him and he gripped the hilt the dagger and pulled it out with a squelching noise. The blade was short and straight, no name appeared on it and he breathed a sigh of relief. There really was no reason for him to think anyone had gotten a hold of his dagger but it was a fear, always a fear. He tried to close the wound with magic but it was unresponsive.

"Damned fairy magic," he spat, tossing the dagger into a snow drift. The last time someone had injured him with a weapon touched by fairy magic, it acted as a poison, waging war on the curse that flowed through him. He spent an entire week in a fevered haze, seeing dragons in the drapes and chasing Bae down hallways.

Swinging the gates open, he started down the pathway and wondered why it was so far from the front doors. But as he pushed forward, he could hear a whistling from his chest cavity and realized the dagger must have punctured his lung. He could already feel the haziness of the fairy fever blurring the edges of his mind and sight. One moment he was upright, the next he was collapsed in the snow, watching the red seep into the snow underneath him. It didn't look right, blood on snow, innocence mingled with violence.

He could hear someone running down the pathway, heeled shoes striking the stone. Belle, his little Belle would most likely take one look at him and keep running for the gate. Well, let her. He'll go back to her father and recollect her when the fever passed. Back to the dungeon with her then, no more room and he'll make her rehang those curtains. But he couldn't really blame her, he had said a caretaker for his estate, not him.

"Rumplestiltskin!"

She was on him like a bird of prey, rolling him over in the snow and pressing on the wound enough to push an expletive out of his mouth that he never used in female company before. Looking down, he saw her pressing a bunched up cloth to the wound. She was stopping the blood flow...with a dusting cloth. "How nice of you to help me on your way out, dearie."

"What are you on about?" she answered, sounding more cross than anything.

"You're not leaving a wounding a beast to bleed out in the snow. Very thoughtful of you."

She pressed her hands to his face and frowned. "You're burning up, no wonder. Up you go." She hooked her arms underneath his and hauled him to his feet. They both staggered their way the rest of the way into the castle. Somehow she had managed to get them into his bedroom and propped up in a chair by the fire. She unhooked his cloak and pulled it off of him, tossing it into a pile on the floor.

"You're going to have to clean that now."

"Yes, I'm well aware of my duties here." She pulled away the cloth slowly. "It's still bleeding. Can't you close with magic?"

He sagged against the side of the chair. "Fairy magic doesn't mix well with what I have."

"Ah," she said, as if she understood. "Stitches then."

She left his side for a while, the fever robbing him of any logical or rational thought. Eventually she came back, armed like an war medic. Warm water, witch hazel, more rags and an embroidery kit. This was going to be interesting, especially since his limbs were too heavy to do much of anything at the moment. He was only dimly aware of her cutting fabric away from the wound but it was the witch hazel that brought his mind into temporary focus before the fever stole it back and kept it for days. When it was finally returned to him, he found himself in his bed, sheets and bedclothes damp with sweat and twisted around him. And Belle leaning over him with a relieved smile.

"There you are," she whispered, pressing the back of her hand against his cheek.

"How long..."

"Four days," she responded, stepping back and folding her hands in front of her. "Would you like some tea?"

He nodded and she was gone down to the kitchens most likely. He sat up and tried to straighten the bed linens slightly, feeling weak and sticky. Looking over at the bedside, he saw a chair had been drug over from the hearth with a book and a...letter sitting on top. Suspicion took over his common sense and he snatched up the parchment and started to read. It was a letter to her father, written in Belle's slanted hand. He was expecting to catch her treason, writing home to tell them of how he was ill and incapacitated, if they attack now she could be rescued. Instead, he found himself reading about the kitchen fire disaster and how she ruined three of his silk shirts. She also described the library in full detail and how that had become her favorite place in the castle.

Feeling slightly ashamed, he put the letter back on the chair and leaned back against the headboard. Four days she kept watch over him. Four days she sat there and waited for the fever to break. He ran his fingers over the wound and found the stitches to be tight and well done. He had thought she would run the first chance she had but she didn't. She stayed, kept his condition a secret from the people who would have saved her from his clutches. When she returned with the tea tray, she took one look at his face and shook her head.

"It's not polite to read other people's letters, you know."

He was so out of sorts he didn't even care she was talking to him like an ill-behaved child. "Yes, I know." Then he tried to redeem some of his fearsome nature. "But I can't have you blathering about my weakened condition, now can I?"

She handed him his tea cup, the chipped one. Always the chipped one since he made her dig it out of the rubbish bin after that first night. "Now why would I do that?"

"Let's just say that people try to get out of their deals with me quite often, dearie."

She poured herself a cup and settled in the chair. "I would say that is very dishonest of them. You give your word to do something, you carry through." She leveled an even and serious look at him. "I said forever, and I mean it."

He didn't know what to say to her. He was not used to dealing with honest, brave people who treat him with kindness. With dealmaking, however, when one person is willing give so must the other. "After you finish that letter, would you like to send it to your father?"

"You would let me do that?"

"As long as you promise not to encourage them to storm the castle, I don't see the harm."

She smiled at him with thankfulness and a touch of orneriness. "Underneath all that dragon leather, you're really not that bad."

"That will definitely not go into any letter or I will change your mind on that matter."

And she still grinned at him. "Deal."


	5. Accidents Happen

**Dance of the Curse**

**Chapter Five: Accidents Happen**

Life was starting to fall into a routine for her now. Every morning Jo would wake up, shower, dress and head into the kitchen to start coffee. Two months of this routine and it still felt like a new, unknown day whenever she opened her eyes. There was no familiarity, no feeling of peace and she was still uncomfortable in her own skin. She felt like she was living someone else's life. This morning however, she found her father already sitting at the kitchen table with a mug of coffee he must have made himself.

"You're up early, Dad."

"Have to set up for the mayoral luncheon today."

"That's right. Are you sure you don't need my help?" Being out and about the town with Geoff was making her more and more brave. True, she was usually scouring the sidewalks and alleys for her one time guide that first time. After all this time, she hadn't seen him or learned his name. She had no one to ask that she felt comfortable enough with to reveal her encounter so the mystery continued to remain unsolved. But she was learning the street names and routes to various different places from her outings with Geoff. People's stares were easier to ignore now.

"Are you sure you want to help?"

Jo brightened at her father's response. It wasn't a flat out "no" like it had been for the last few weeks. "I would love to!"

He looked like he was caught between a grimace and a smile. "Alright then. Eat something and we'll start loading up the van."

She grabbed a bagel and dropped it in the toaster. Her father was out of his casts, his wounds almost healed but he still couldn't carry the buckets of flowers and water. She was actually grateful for the work, allowing her muscles to work after so long in the asylum. She was starting to feel useful.

"How was your date with Geoff?"

Jo tried not to roll her eyes. "It was fine." Her father was becoming less and less protective of her while Geoff was growing more insistent with his affections. She was growing to appreciate the weight and warmth of his hand in hers. She was prepared for his too tight hugs. But then last night, he kissed her and she was definitely not prepared for that.

"You still don't remember him?"

"Not at all, I'm afraid." She gave her father a smile though. "He's very nice though."

Her father was turning his coffee mug in his hand, a serious look on his face. "You two were engaged once."

"Engaged?" The thought absolutely horrified her. "But I don't, I mean, we're not-"

"Jo," her father stood up with a laugh and pulled her into a hug. "I'm not going to make you do anything you don't want to."

She sagged against him in relief.

"I just didn't want you to be surprised if he thinks things are moving along faster than they really are."

"I can handle that."

"Good," he kissed the top of her head and let her go. "Eat your breakfast and then we'll get going."

Jo quickly ate her breakfast, dressed for the bitterly cold weather outside and started carrying out the buckets of lilies, carnations and roses. It was a sea of white flowers in the back of the delivery van with all the black vases stacked on one side. Black and white, just as the Mayor had ordered.

"I still need to pick up the orchids at the docks and as well as the table linens from Granny's."

Jo looked at the time and realized they would be cutting it close to the start of the luncheon. "Tell you what, I'll go pick up the orchids, you take the car and pick up the linens and I'll meet you there." She's been looking forward to using her shiny new driver's license and enjoy the feeling of independence.

"You'll be alright driving the van?"

"Without a doubt."

Her father relinquished the keys with a small smile. "Be careful."

* * *

Gold had just opened his shop, hung his coat up and turned on the lights when the screech of tires and the sound of metal hitting metal shattered the morning quiet. He knew it was his car that had been hit. His was the only one parked on the street at the moment. Not sure if it was done on purpose or by accident, he grabbed his coat, cell phone and pistol from the top desk drawer. He slipped both the firearm and the phone into the pocket of his wool coat and stepped back outside in the bitter cold.

A white van had plowed itself into the side of his Cadillac. He could see the rippled logo of the French florist shop on the side of the offending vehicle and wondered what in the world possessed Moe French to be around his shop in the first place. But when the door opened, it wasn't Moe who stumbled from the van. It was a slight figure in a very familiar red down jacket and a mess of auburn curls.

Joelle French surveyed the damage with a hand over her mouth and her eyes wide. He knew that look. He'd come home to the Dark Castle on more than one occasion and faced that look. It was usually something small, a stained shirt or a singed carpet, that he could easily magic back into its original state. Here in Storybrooke, however, there was no magic he could use to fix the twisted metal before him. She turned her eyes to him and he could see a gash over her eye, blood running down the side of her face. It was enough of a shock to spur him into action.

"Miss French, please," he was able to catch her elbow and lead her into the shop, away from the wreckage outside. It was a small town and no doubt the Sheriff would be arriving soon. He settled Jo, now shaking, in his desk chair and taking his handkerchief from his pocket, he pressed it to her forehead. He wondered if he should call an ambulance for her but when he pulled the cloth away, he could see it wasn't a deep gash. Stitches might be necessary but it was certainly nothing life threatening and it could wait for a little while. He hadn't seen her up close since that day he took her home and he was, above all else, a selfish man.

"Please tell me that wasn't your car."

He turned a grimace into a sideways grin. "Afraid I can't do that, dear."

"I am so sorry." Her eyes filled with tears. "There was i-i-ice and the n-n-next thing-"

"That's alright, Miss French. It's just a car." He wished he was better at soothing. Twenty-eight years of biting, snapping and threatening had robbed him of what little compassion he did hold at one time. But he would find that small, forgotten part of him, dust it off and present it to her as the beginning of making amends for a past life of sins. "Is there anything I can get you?"

She pulled a cell phone out of her pocket with shaking hands. "I have t-to c-call my D-Dad."

"Here," he took the phone of out of her hand, "why don't you calm yourself a little first. Won't do to scare him with tears and trembling for no reason, would it?"

She gave him a shaky smile through her tears. "You're right."

He braced himself against the desk. "Now, what brings you down here?"

"Um, I had to pick up some orchids that were delivered last night before going to help set up for the-" her eyes widened even further and she stood up, bolting for the door. He followed her as quickly as possibly but when he rounded the end of the van, she was sitting on the bumper, dissolved into more tears. The inside of the van was a mess of white flowers and shattered black vases. Jo let out a low keen.

"My father is going to kill me."

Gold bit back a laugh. "I highly doubt that, dear."

"You don't understand." She stood up, wrapping her arms around herself. "Doing the mayoral luncheon was going to pay our rent this month."

"I'm sure an arrangement can be worked out." He could forget a month's rent for them but that would draw too much attention to his generosity. People would start questioning why he would let the French's slide on their debts but no one else and that would surely reach Regina's ears. But that didn't mean he couldn't show some sort of kindness.

"My father says Mr. Gold is quite unforgiving when it comes to his payments."

He gripped the handle of his cane tightly. "Is that so?"

She stared him like he was a friend, a confidant and he was afraid whatever she asked, he would do it. "Have you met him? Do you know Mr. Gold?"

Before he could answer her, Emma's voice carried down the street. "Gold! What the hell happened here?"

Jo looked at him widening eyes and more tears were threatening to fall.

"Everything's fine, Sheriff," he forced himself to smile in Emma's direction. "Just a little mishap with some ice." He turned back to Jo, who no longer was looking at him with any kind of warmth, and handed her back her phone. "You might want to get that cut looked at, dear."

And he walked back into his shop, figuring Emma would come in eventually once Jo was sorted out and soothed. She would be in better hands with Emma anyway. She would be in better hands with anyone other than him. But his fingers itched to touch her again, to kiss her tears away and assure her that everything was going to be fine. He gave her a way out though and told her an arrangement could be agreed upon. If there was any part of Belle left in her, she would seek him out and soon. He was a selfish man, after all.


	6. The Arrangement

**The Dance of the Curse**

**Chapter 6: The Arrangement**

Jo allowed herself to be taken back to the hospital, have four stitches put into her forehead and even held her tongue while her father fussed and Geoff fawned over her. She allowed her father to tuck her in her bed like she was small child and bring her dinner while she reclined against every pillow in the house. She hated the attention. She hated feeling like the damsel in distress. And she hated the draw she felt towards the notorious Mr. Gold, now that she had a name to put to the face.

She tried to distract herself by reading but the words blurred together and all she could see were those worried brown eyes assessing the damage she inflicted on herself. The tightly drawn mouth that clearly spoke of how he did not like seeing her hurt. She can remember his scent, not the cologne but his own earthy scent, all to well. And all of these things did not add up to the reputation that the man had made for himself in this town. As if she needed more confusion added to her life right now. She was still trying to figure out why she had been locked up in an insane asylum.

The next morning, she went back to her original routine: get up, get dressed and head to the kitchen to make the coffee. Thankfully, her father was still sleeping by the time she had the coffee made so she didn't have to fight about how she needed to rest. Her muscles were sore, her head still throbbed but it could it have been much worse. The van had been towed over Mike Tillman's garage so she planned to go over there and get the estimate on how much it would cost to repair. It was just another bill they couldn't pay.

_I'm sure an arrangement can be made._

Mr. Gold's words came back to her and she began to wonder just what kind of arrangement he had in mind. If she went by his reputation only it would most likely be something irrational, too hard or possibly offensive. But if she went by how he had treated her the two times they had interacted, she couldn't help but feel that it would be nothing but reasonable. She wasn't afraid of hard work or long hours. She did cause substantial damage to his car and ruined a perfectly nice silk handkerchief. That settled it in her mind.

She wrote her father a note telling him she was going out to pick up some groceries and the estimate for the van repair, leaving out the detail that she was also going back to the pawnshop. She slipped out the door before he made his way down to the kitchen since she didn't feel like being coddled anymore. The sting of the cold morning air was was actually refreshing. Spring should be arriving soon but apparently Maine tended to fight the warmth. She thought of how nice it would be to curl up in front of roaring fire with a book and the daydream warmed her until she reached the garage.

She was thankful for the daydream too after she had picked up the estimate and it sat heavy in her jeans pocket. It was almost as much as a month's rent but if they didn't have the van, they wouldn't have any money for either debt. Her choice to walk two blocks over and one block down towards the docks to a pawnshop seemed inevitable at this point. Whatever Mr. Gold had for her to do, she would just have to grit her teeth and agree.

"Miss French?"

Jo stopped and turned to see the Mayor, dressed impeccably as usual, making her way down the sidewalk towards her. "Mayor Mills. Hello."

The Mayor smile brightly. "I'm quite surprised to see you up and around so soon after your accident."

"It really wasn't quite an accident. Just uh, mishap." Jo wanted the Mayor to keep walking. She didn't want anyone to know where she was going or who she was going to see. No sense to worry her father more than he already was.

"Do you mind if I walk with you for a little while?"

Jo found herself shaking her head no even though she wanted nothing more than to be left alone. She felt like a complete waif in her jeans and consignment down jacket that was two sizes too big while Mayor Mills was in a cashmere coat and tailored suit.

"How are you feeling, Miss French?"

"Quite well, thank you."

"I was actually on my way to see you and your father this morning."

Jo stared at the cracks in the sidewalk. "I am very sorry about not delivering the flowers you requested-"

She tutted. "That is quite understandable. So much so," she pulled a scrap of paper from her pocket and handed it to Jo. "You and your father have been through too much in these couple months, I really couldn't stand by and see you suffer more."

Jo took the piece of paper and opened it to find a check for double the cost of the flowers that never made it to the luncheon. "Oh, we can't-"

"Nonsense, of course you can. Think of it as my welcome home gift to you, dear."

Jo stared at the Mayor's dark eyes and even though she was holding proof of the other woman's generosity, she couldn't see any warmth in those dark eyes. The smile that stretched those red painted lips didn't reach her eyes and looked more sharp than pleased. It was the complete opposite of how Gold had looked at her and smiled. She wondered if people were mixing up Gold's reputation with the Mayor's.

"Really," Jo tried to hand the check back to Regina, "this is way too generous and I couldn't accept it."

But the Mayor put her hands into her coat pockets. "Like I said, think of it as a gift." And she continued to walk down the street and left Jo standing on the street corner. She no longer had a reason to go to Mr. Gold's now but despite the check that would easily cover the van repair and their rent, the curiosity of what kind of arrangement he was going to offer was too great to pass up.

* * *

The bell over his front door sounded and he tried not to grimace. It was most likely Regina or Sheriff Swan and he just wasn't in the mood for either one of them right now. But as he sat at the work desk waiting for one of them to make their way back to him or announce their arrival, the shop was strangely quiet. After a few minutes of silence, he picked up his cane and peered through the curtain that separated the backroom from the store. It wasn't the Mayor or the Sheriff but rather it was Jo French. If it wasn't for the clothes and the fact that a curse hung heavy in the air, he could swear she was just Belle once more, trying to take in all the various trinkets he had collected over the years. Soon her eyes were going to rove over the curtain and it wouldn't due to have her catch him staring.

"Good morning, Miss French."

She started slightly at his sudden appearance. "Mr. Gold."

"I didn't expect to see you so soon after your little...run in." He gave her a slight smile which she actually returned.

"Interesting choice of words."

She still had a bandage over the gash with a rim of purple bleeding out from underneath the cloth. "I see you had the cut looked after."

"My father wouldn't have it any other way. It only took four stitches." She frowned. "I'll probably have a scar."

"A battle scar then."

A little laugh bubbled out of her. "You seem in an awfully good mood for someone who just had their car wrecked."

"It's just a car." He shrugged and stepped behind the counter. "So what brings you back here?"

"I wanted to ask you about that arrangement you mentioned. What exactly did you want?"

The question caught him a little off guard. He knew Regina paid the French's double what she owed them for the flowers, she had called him this morning to tell him that. Anything to keep the French's comfortable enough to stay away from him and yet, Jo French was standing in his shop asking him about the arrangement he dangled in front of her. If he had any doubt of loving this woman in front of him, it was completely gone by now. "Storybrooke used to have a library but after years of neglect, it closed."

"It's underneath the clock tower, all boarded up. I wondered what happened to it."

Of course she would seek out the library, smart girl that she was. If he didn't hear her breaking things or falling down stairs in the Dark Castle, it usually meant she was either sleeping or reading in the library. "It needs a lot of work and no one wants to tackle the project."

"I will." She said it with such confidence, as if she now had a purpose. As if breathing wasn't purpose enough.

"You don't even know what it's going to entail or what the pay is going to be."

She pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket. "My father's repair estimate is $875 and your's is $650. So the pay would be $1525."

Always fair, his Belle. "I do believe I can cover my own cost of the repairs. But to restore the library is going to take a while to complete. Then once it's done, it's going to need a librarian."

She looked hopeful and scared at the same time. "You're offering me a job?"

"Yes."

"And how much would this job pay?"

He tried to act like he was mentally calculating the costs in his mind. "Since the library is part of my property, I would provide the materials needed to restore it. Everything is going to need cleaned from floor to ceiling plus a coat of new paint. The books will have to be reorganized and more will have to procured and processed. I'd say a flat fee of $5000 would be reasonable. When you begin the work as the librarian, if you're agreeable, $15 an hour."

"And the hours?"

"When it's finally open, 11:00 am to 6:00 pm, give or take."

She bit her lower lip in an effort to hide her smile but couldn't quite manage it. "I accept."

He grinned openly. "The deal is struck then."


	7. A New Deal

**Dance of the Curse**

**Chapter Seven: A New Deal **

Jo had no idea how she was going to break the news to her father about her part-time job. Just sneaking off to the pawnshop for one hour left her feeling guilty. She had to tell him, no sneaking around for this project. So she made his favorite dinner, one of the few dishes she didn't scorch, and hoped it was enough to soften this blow. Unfortunately, when he came home from a delivery and saw the chicken parmesan, he was immediately on alert.

"Estimate is that bad, huh?"

She tried to hide a smile. "No, not really." She handed him the paper from the garage along with the check from Mayor Mills. "I bumped into the Mayor this morning. She told me to think of the check as a welcome home gift."

Her father looked back and forth from the check to the estimate. "This more than enough to pay for the van, flowers and the rent!" But then a frown appeared. "How much was Gold's estimate?"

And here it came, the time to be brave and not back down. "Actually, he said he can handle his own costs and not to worry."

"'He said?' Please tell me this was over the phone."

Jo pushed her chicken around on her plate. "No, it wasn't."

"You went to see him? After I told you to leave him alone."

Be brave...be brave..."He said an arrangement could be made for me to help pay for the expense of the car repair and rent. I went today to see what that would entail."

Her father seemed to take heart at the statement. "Oh well, with the Mayor's check, you now don't have to worry about such nonsense then."

A little rise of irritation crept across her skin. "Maybe I want to worry about this nonsense. After I heard his proposition, I would very much like to take him up on his offer."

Moe adamantly shook his head. "Absolutely not."

"Why? You don't even know what he wants me to do!"

"I don't want you near that man, Jo."

Jo sat back in her chair with a huff. "Why not? He's never been anything but kind towards me."

"Has he, Jo? How about before you went missing?"

The took away some of her fire. "You know I don't remember anything from before the hospital."

Moe sighed heavily. "What does he want you to do? Be his housekeeper?"

Jo wrinkled her nose at the thought. "No, not at all. He wants me to fix up the library and then stay on as the librarian.

Clearly that wasn't the answer her father expected. "And how much is he willing to pay you?"

"$5000 up front for the setting up and cleaning of things, $15 an hour for the librarian position." She watched her father mull it over and could see him listing towards a no. "Dad, I want to do this."

He rested both his elbows on the kitchen table and looked defeated. "Why, honey?"

She shrugged. "It'll be something of my own. My own project, my own job. Not to mention the extra money it would provide. We could move the shop downtown or..." she crossed her arms in front of her, "or I could go to college."

"College?"

He was starting to give a little and so was she. "Online classes?"

A fleeting grin made its way across his face before he pushed back from the table. "Let me talk to him about this."

"Dad-"

He held up his hand and stopped her. "I know you're a grown woman and that you want to make your own choices but let an old man be protective of his only daughter?"

"I already told him I would do it."

"I'm still going to talk to him about this little arrangement. Now," he looked at his watch, "isn't Geoff taking you out tonight?"

She had completely forgotten about that, too excited about the library project, her library project. He had a late practice tonight so it was just a short meeting at the ice cream shop with the team. Not exactly a date but she did promise to go. "Yes, I better clean up and get going myself."

He gave her a quick kiss over the bandage, grabbed his coat and headed out the door. She had the strange urge to call Gold and warn him that her father was headed over to see him but realized they were both grown men and could handle matters between them respectfully. At least, she hoped so.

* * *

Gold stayed late at the shop, knowing that he was going to have a visitor. Moe French would not be happy with the idea of his daughter working for him, not again. But he had an arsenal of words prepared to defend Jo's decision. Surely her father, now in firm control of his memories would remember the "no one decides my fate but me," speech Belle delivered so long ago in a war room. Many things may have changed between then and now, but nothing could change that girl's  
determination. So when eight o'clock rolled around and the bell over his door rang, he was not surprised at the least.

"Gold?"

The pawnbroker pulled the curtain aside and sure enough, there was Moe French still standing by the door, looking warily around him. "Do lock the door, Mr. French and turn the sign to closed. We wouldn't want anyone to interrupt our little chat."

Moe looked cautious, no doubt remembering how their last little "chat" went, but rallied his courage and did as he was asked. "Jo told me about the job offer."

"I assumed as much." Gold moved to behind one of the counters, a buffer zone. "I suppose you're here to talk me out of it."

"Is it possible?"

"I don't think so."

And suddenly the merchant king turned florist looked defeated. "Why? Why do you want to take away my girl? Wasn't locking her up in your castle for six months good enough for you?"

Gold bit his tongue before words that he would regret saying slip out, before he tells the man in front of him that forever would never be long enough to spend with his daughter. Instead, he focuses on the details on the deal, details that should comfort a parent who is fearful of losing their child. "There was nothing in the agreement concerning living conditions. She'll continue to live with you, no doubt continue to help in the flower shop as she works on the restoration of the library. Quite simple arrangement, really."

"Nothing is ever that simple with you."

"This time, I'm afraid it is."

Moe regarded him with shrewd eyes. "What was so important about that damn tea cup?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"If you want Jo to work for you, you tell me about that tea cup."

Gold leaned on the glass counter top. "Why are you so interested in that story?"

"Because I know it has something to do Belle and I want to hear it."

Gold tried to look nonchalant. "I made a quip, she dropped the cup, end of story." But that wasn't the case at all. It was just the beginning of the story and judging from Moe French's expression, he  
realized that and wisely let it go.

"Geoff LeBeau has already asked to marry her."

"And what has she said?"

"He hasn't asked her yet. He's hoping she's going to regain her memories."

"Well, if she does," Gold relaxed slightly now that the conversation was away from the tea cup, "I can pretty much guarantee she'll gain her real memories, not the implants."

"Either way, let her have the life she was suppose to have."

Gold leaned across the counter. "And what about the life she wants?"

"A life with you?"

"I didn't say that." No, he wouldn't condemn her twice. "She wanted to see the world. When the curse breaks, she'll be able to leave to do so."

Moe was quiet for a moment. "What did she say about Gaston?"

He wanted to take joy at delivering her exact words to her father but it didn't come. "She said he was superficial."

Moe grimaced. "Knights tend to be that way. He did care for her though."

Gold kept quiet and tried not to imagine what kind of life she would have with said knight. Most likely the only world she would be exposed to it was that of a frazzled mother with six or seven children clinging to her.

"Alright," Moe finally said. "She works at the library but you do not influence the decisions she makes. She wants to marry Geoff, you let her. She wants to travel the world, you let her. No trickery, no conniving."

"The same goes for you." Gold extended his hand. "What Belle wants, Belle gets."

Moe took the offered hand and gave one hearty shake. "Deal."

And Gold wonders if maybe he should have mentioned something about true love's kiss.

* * *

Jo was grateful to be outside of the ice cream parlor and away from the rowdy football team. They were all very nice boys but crowds still made Jo nervous and the way they all smiled and nudged each other whenever Geoff put his arm around her left her uneasy. But once they were

outside, the cold night air refreshed her a little bit and life didn't seem so stifling.

"Thanks for coming out tonight, Jo."

She smiled up at him. "Sure."

"I know it's a lousy date, sharing it with a football team but I appreciate you coming."

"They're not so bad."

"They're obnoxious. What you talking about?"

"They're teenage boys, aren't they suppose to be that way?"

He laughed slightly. "I suppose so." They walked for a block in silence before he found his voice again. "Jo, I've been wanting to ask you something but I wanted your memories to be back when I did. It's been two months and there's no sign of that happening so I figure I'll just go ahead and ask anyway. Will you marry me?"

Jo stopped mid-stride and turned to look at him. "What?"

He looked down at her pleadingly. "You said yes once before, I'm hoping you say yes again."

"Geoff, that's sweet but I don't remember you at all."

He grabbed both her hands. "We'll make new memories then. Please, believe me. You loved me before, I know you'll love me again."

Jo tried to summon the feelings that he was telling her she had felt but the only feeling she had was that, yes, she had loved someone before but it wasn't him. But he was so earnest and even her father told her that they had been engaged at one point. Maybe that was the amnesia, maybe she did love Geoff before and if she did, she could do it again.

"I do believe you, Geoff," she put a hand on his arm. "I'm not saying no to you but I can't say yes just yet."

He smiled sheepishly. "I can understand that."

"Thank you." She looped her arm through and they continued their walk to her home. As always, he walked her to the door and kissed her goodnight. This time though, she was prepared for it and it didn't feel so odd and off kilter. As she watched him walk further down the sidewalk to his home, she thought that maybe she could love him and be happy.


	8. Head and Heart

**Dance of the Curse**

**Chapter Eight: Head and Heart**

_My head told my heart, let love grow, _

_But my heart told my head, this time, no. _

_~Winter Winds by Mumford and Sons_

Moe French was tidying up the flowers when Jo came through the door, cheeks flushed with cold and a slightly concerned look on her face. She looked so much like her mother, he found himself caught between grief and joy. He had thought both women were lost to him for all eternity but Belle had been returned. He was having a hard time seeing this world as cursed now.

"Have a nice night, my girl?"

A small smile tugged at the serious line of her mouth. "I did, yes. And you? I see you're in one piece, did you leave Mr. Gold intact?"

"I did, as well as your arrangement with the library."

She looked surprised but pleased. "Really? That's much more than I expected. Thank you." She climbed up on the stool in front of the arrangement counter and played with the open petals of a bright pink gerber daisy.

Moe moved a stack of empty flower buckets off in the corner and turned towards his daughter. "Something on your mind?"

"Do you ever remember me being in love with someone?"

He wished she had asked that question before tonight. He knows his daughter, knows her nature better than his own. And he also knows the look that he saw in Gold's eyes tonight when he talked about the cup, or rather avoided talking about it. The man, the Dark One, who claimed he wasn't looking for love had found it unexpectedly. Regina's imprisonment suddenly made sense, she had stolen something that Rumpelstiltskin had loved only to use as leverage. But he had no way of knowing if that love was returned but he knows his daughter, remembers all the stray and wounded animals that she hid in her wardrobes and under her bed. He doesn't have to stretch his imagination to see her opening that wide heart of hers for someone like Rumplestiltskin but he doesn't know for certain.

"I don't remember you being in love with anyone," he finally answers.

She gives him an odd look as she mulls over his words. "Do you remember if someone loved me?"

And he wonders if Gold had somehow gotten ahold of her and put the question in her head but one look into her eyes shows genuine curiosity. So he leans across the counter and plants a kiss on the crown of her head. "Of course I remember someone who loved you. I love you."

She laughs. "I know you do and that's not what I'm talking about."

_What Belle wants, Belle gets._

"I remember a time when I asked you what being in love meant to you," Moe started. He figured using her own words might help. "You told me that you thought love, real love, was layered."

"I said that?"

"You did."

She worried her lower lip. "I hate to say this but I don't think Geoff is very layered. He's very kind and sweet but he's just..."

Moe took in a deep breath. "Superficial?"

She gave him a small, unhappy smile. "Yes, I'm afraid so."

Moe stepped around the counter and put his arms around her. "You'll know it when it comes around, my girl, you'll know." He just hoped he could handle it when she did realize who she loved.

* * *

Gold went over to the library on Friday night since that seemed to be the night Jo went out with the football-knight. He had stayed away from her after handing her the keys to the building and hadn't crossed paths with her for a week now. He was behaving himself, he was staying away from temptation and it was killing him. But when he stepped inside the building he was surprised to find the lights on and Jo painting the great expanse of one of the walls.

He started to leave when he heard her sniffle. He knew the sound well despite the fact that she rarely cried while at the Dark Castle. The worst of it had been that first month and that little sound twisted something that was long dead inside his chest cavity to the point he could hear it from one side of the estate to the other. At this moment, nothing had changed and there was still a massive twinge in his rib cage.

"Miss French?"

She jumped, dropping the paint roller and swiping at her tears. "Mr. Gold! I, uh, I didn't hear you come in." She picked up the roller and dumped it back into the pan. Thankfully it had fallen on the drop cloth and not the floorboards.

"I didn't expect you to be here." He crossed the empty space that separated them, the tap of his cane against the warped wooden planks echoing off the walls. "Is everything alright?"

She nodded but kept her eyes lowered. "Everything's fine."

He pulled out a handkerchief and offered it to her, but she held up paint spattered hands. He smiled and opened the small square of silk and she took it with a rueful smile.

"I've already ruined one of your handkerchiefs, you're willing to let me have a go at another?"

A quick laugh escaped him before he could stop it. He wonders exactly just what the expense account would be for everything of his that she had broken, stained, mangled or chipped. "So what brings you in here on a Friday night? Shouldn't you be out enjoying yourself?"

She rallied, the way she always did, with a broken smile and an upturned chin. "And what makes you think I'm not enjoying myself?"

"Painting walls in a rundown library all by yourself? I'm not seeing it, dear."

"I suppose I just needed some silence and something to do with my hands."

"Ah," he turns to go, "then I'll just see myself out."

"What?" she looked confused momentarily. "No, that's not what I meant. Please, stay. Unless you have someplace else to be."

"No, nowhere else to be." And he knew this was dangerous territory, being alone with her and feeling comfortable with it. He never should have let her know he was there. He should have left as soon as he saw her. But he didn't because just like in the other land, the only place he could breathe was when she was near.

She "hm"ed with a smirk. "Now who doesn't know how to enjoy themselves."

"Yes, but I wasn't found crying either." He went over to one of the covered tables and flipped the material off to pull out two chairs for them. "Care to talk about it?"

She knotted her fingers up in front of her. "I doubt you would be very interested."

"Try me."

And then she did something that almost stopped his heart. Instead of taking the chair, she sat instead on the still covered part of the table. It was the same positions they had taken up so many times in the Dark Castle, times where he had let his guard down and this was starting to become more and more of a bad idea.

"Do you know who Geoff LeBeau is?"

He nodded.

"Well," she fixed her eyes on her shoes, "he asked me to marry him."

"So these were tears of joy I interrupted?"

She shook her head. "No, afraid not. I told him no tonight and it was hard." Tears were starting to gather in her eyes again.

He gripped the head of his cane to keep from grabbing her off the table and holding her against him. "May I ask why you turned him down?"

She sighed. "It's hard to explain, just a feeling, really."

"What kind of feeling?"

She glanced up to his face finally but quickly looked away with a forced laugh. "You'll only think of me as being silly, with my head in the clouds."

"I highly doubt that."

"Well," she worried her bottom lip, "I feel like there's someone else out there for me, waiting. Someone who loved me before...before whatever took my memories." She laughed. "I told you it was silly."

"There's nothing silly about that at all. In fact, I think it very noble of you." And absolutely frightening in the possibilities. He wanted to believe she was referring to him but the coward assured him that someone like Belle would have come to her senses and moved on from the nightmare that he put her through. And at times like this, the coward makes the Dark One seem like a street hustler with parlor tricks and slight of hand. He stood and prepared to say good night to her when she did what she does best, and surprised him.

"Why are you so nice to me?"

He was nervous and unsettled so he fell back on a old hand flourish. "What makes you think I'm not nice to others?"

"Your reputation," she answered boldly. "No one in this town has anything but fear towards you."

"You don't fear me, dearie." And he almost bit his tongue in half. She's too close, she's gotten him too comfortable and off kilter now.

"Because you've never given me any reason to fear you. That's my point." She regarded him with eyes much wiser than they should be. "You're different with me. Why?"

"Pity?"

"No, that's not it."

He tried to summon up some intimidation, a razor blade-edge to his smile, coldness to his eyes but he can see in her face he's failing miserably, but he tried nonetheless. "And what are your thoughts on this matter then?"

She pushed herself off the table and stood in front of him, staring up into his face. "Did you know me before I was locked up?"

"Yes." Once more, the truth always finds a way to slip out whenever she was around him.

She took another step even closer to him. "Were you nice to me then?"

"Not very, I'm afraid."

A small smile appeared in the corner of her mouth. "At least you're doing better now."

"I'm trying."

She moved much faster than she did back at the castle, back at the spinning wheel when she was unsure and timid, and it took him a moment to realize what was happening. His body reacted before his mind and his arms went around her, pulling her against him as her lips moved against his. A surge of panic bursts through him at the thought of his curse being broken, leaving him vulnerable and unprotected but there is no magic here, not in this world. The relief bends and curls him around the brave girl who found it in her heart to love a beast and he feels her fingers in his hair, on his scalp. He tried not to whimper when she pulled back from him slightly but he's relieved that she doesn't release her hold on him.

"It's you, isn't it?" she breathed. "You're the one who loved me before?"

Once more, she pulled truth out of him. "Yes, yes I am."

"No."

Gold and Jo turn, still tangled around each other, to see an angry Moe French bearing down on them. Gold finally disentangled himself from Jo and stepped in front of her, ready to remind Moe of their deal explain he did not break any part of it, when Moe's fist connected with his jaw. As he went down, he felt an immense pain burst from the back of his head before complete darkness consumed him.


	9. Resolve

**Dance of the Curse**

**Chapter Nine: Resolve**

Jo doesn't know which room she should be in at the moment. Both her father and Mr. Gold had to be taken to the hospital for X-rays and were being kept separated from each other until the Sheriff arrived. Hospital policy for any and all domestic incidents according to Dr. Whale. Her father is having his fractured hand wrapped while Gold is fighting the nurses over his unexpected overnight stay. The poor nurse is trying to explain to him, to no avail, that all patients who have a concussion must stay overnight for observation.

Every time Jo closes her eyes, she can see him falling, hear the sickening crack of his head hitting the table that she had been sitting on just moments before. She is having a difficult time avoiding her father's sad and pleading eyes. He is looking at her as if she is leaving him forever. But when she would turn in the direction of Gold's room, she could hear the angry tone of his voice and the warbling, close to tears reply of the nurse. She could not go to either one of them right now so she starts off down the hallway towards the chapel.

It is a very small room with dark panelling and low light. Thankfully, no one is in there and she slides into one of the hard wooden pews and just relishes the quiet. Now that she is away from the beeping medical equipment, raised voices, emotionally distressed nurses and pleading eyes, all she can think about is that kiss that she and Gold shared. It was unlike anything that she had experienced since her release from the mental ward. It had felt _real, _more real than arranging flowers and hanging on the arm of Geoff LeBeau. And it felt right, the way she fit tucked against him and the way he had curled around her, protective and careful. There had been genuine love behind the act and it left her warm, flushed and confused.

The door to the chapel opens and she turns to see Dr. Hopper making his way towards her. A slight feeling of fear creeps into her spine. Was he here for her, to lock her back up once more? But he smiles, in his own timid fashion and whispers lowly to her.

"Would you mind if I sat here with you?"

She shakes her head tiredly. "Not at all." Part of her therapy and condition of release rested with a weekly visit to Dr. Hopper and over the months, he had grown from therapist to friend in her mind. The truth was, she would rather talk to him than the Sheriff any day.

He settles in the same pew as her but leaves about two feet of distance between them. "So, uh, I heard there was some excitement tonight?"

A short laugh bursts out of her mouth before she can stifle it. "That is quite an understatement."

He responds with a short little laugh of his own. "So I'm hearing."

She raises an eyebrow. "The Sheriff sent you to talk to me?"

He briefly touches her shoulder. "Only as your friend, not your therapist."

Jo knew that Dr. Hopper, as a therapist, had made it a very solid point not to tell her of his memories of her. He wants her to find them for herself and while she appreciates that, she really needs someone to tell her about her past now. At least the past that includes Mr. Gold. "As a friend then, what do you remember of me before I disappeared?"

He looks thoughtful for a moment and then his brow furrows. "I, uh, I don't remember much quite honestly. We didn't have much interaction. You were always Joelle French, the florist's daughter."

"Were you called in that night, when I was found wandering in the woods?"

He shakes his head. "No, I wasn't. I didn't even hear about it until you were released."

Jo frowns. She thought it was very odd that the only psychiatrist in Storybrooke wasn't called upon for his services when a girl was found wandering in the woods in some kind of mental fugue. Sure, the hospital staffed a couple psychologists and a handful of counselors, but it still left her feeling like there was more to this. And no one from the hospital recognized her? The more she thought about it, the more pieces were not fitting this picture but she didn't want to sound paranoid in front of her therapist, friend or not. "Do you remember anything concerning Mr. Gold and myself?"

"Nothing comes to mind." Now he looks wary. "What did he tell you?"

_It's you, isn't it?_

_You're the one who loved me before. __Yes, yes, I am._

She quickly snaps her mouth shut so she doesn't let any words slip out and give up that secret. He had admitted to loving her before her disappearance and she could still hear that whispered, full of hope  
confession. It is the piece to this puzzle that fits and feels comfortable. She folds her arms across her chest and pushes down the sudden desire to go back to him, curl herself into his chest and have him tell her the story of herself.

"Jo, did he hurt you?"

The question catches her off guard. "Who?"

"Mr. Gold?"

"No, absolutely not." The thought absolutely horrifies her and she hopes she expresses that to Dr. Hopper.

"Then what exactly happened tonight?"

Jo really didn't want to share anything of what had transpired between her and Gold that night but she is certain if she didn't, the poor pawnbroker would be accused of all kinds of nefarious behavior. And given his reputation in the town, it would be believed. "I was working in the library tonight, getting some painting done. Mr. Gold stopped in to check on the progress, not realizing I was going to be there. He stayed, we chatted for a little while and it just felt…normal."

"And then your father came in and punched him for talking to you?"

Jo hid her eyes. "No, my father punched him because he caught us, um, kissing."

"Ah, well, I, um-"

"If you're concerned about him taking advantage of me, don't worry." Jo straightened her back and tried to exude confidence. "I initiated the whole thing."

And Dr. Hopper actually smiles, a true smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes. "That definitely, definitely sounds like you." He taps her on the shoulder again. "The real you. I haven't seen you this much at ease since your release. You may be finding your place back in the world."

"But what if that place is with Mr. Gold? My father will never understand and neither will the town."

He grows very serious and she can tell the next words he says are very close to his heart. "Finding that place where you fit in the world, whether it's doing something brave or standing beside someone, is so very important. When it's right, you will know it and don't let anyone make you turn your back on it."

"What if doing something brave is standing by someone that everyone thinks you should stay away from?"

"Then I guess that's what makes it a brave thing."

Jo smiles widely. "Then I guess it's a good thing for Mr. Gold that I'm brave." And for the first time since the door of the asylum was unlocked, Jo felt as if she was living in her own mind and body. It was as if she was finally coming home.

* * *

"I know it says 'observation' on the door, dearie, but that doesn't mean it's an invitation." Even though his keeps his eyes closed, Gold can still hear Regina's smile.

"I just had to see this for myself," she croons as she steps across the threshold.

It was his turn to smile, a lazy and careless thing. "You just had to see if her kiss had any aftereffects."

He laughs slightly when he feels the energy in the room change, hears her throw herself down in the chair next to his bed. "No magic, dearie, no curse to break this time around for me."

"So you think you're allowed your happy ending then? Sounds like someone doesn't understand their own curse."

"Sounds like someone didn't understand fully what they enacted." He opens his eyes and sees her sitting forward on the edge of the chair. She's unsure but trying, always, to hide it behind a mask of smugness. "The curse was meant to keep Snow White and Charming apart. Everyone else was collateral damage and not the focus. So yes, I may very well get my happy ending."

"And what will you do, I wonder if she remembers? Remembers how you cast her out because you, how did she say it," Regina looks thoughtful for a moment, "Oh yes, your power meant more to you than her."

He tries not to show the hurt and angry that he feels break across his skin like a fine sheen of sweat. "It was a lie and she called me on it before she left."

"So if there was magic in this world, and the Dark One curse was in effect, would you be willing to give up that power for her love?"

She's not the only one who can threaten with sharp teeth and malice. "I will gladly set aside my power for her but only when you are defeated, your Majesty."

Realization crosses her face. "You want the curse broken?"

He closes his eyes again. "Is that a question or a statement, dearie?"

"Why?"

"I have my reasons and I most certainly will not be telling them to you."

"Fine, keep your secrets. It doesn't matter either way. If she remembers you from the other world, she'll run back to her daddy to protect her from the monster that stole her away as a payment. If she remembers her life here, she'll be back with that football idiot. Either way, she'll be running from you and that's all I care about right now."

"And if she doesn't remember anything at all?"

"Well, enjoy it while it lasts. The curse will catch up with you soon enough, I'm sure."

He listens to her leave and sincerely hopes she is wrong. The curse was an entity all of its own and it would move instinctively to block anything that would bring contentment to one of the residents. Happiness was different. Happiness was fleeting and brief, a bright light that the curse ignored, but the steady, low glow of contentment it would seek to destroy. He hears another set of footsteps approach the room and pause in the doorway. He opens his eyes slightly to see Jo standing there, trying to see if he was sleeping or not, so he opened his eyes and tried to sit up straighter.

"I'm glad to see you stopped yelling at the nursing staff," she smiled crookedly as she stepped into the room.

"They're changing shifts soon so I'll have to start yelling again at the new one."

"You better not. They're only doing what they're told. Be nice to them, please?"

Like he could deny her anything. "I'll try."

She smiles in relief and reaches for his hand, which he of course easily slides into hers. "I can't stay for long, I'm afraid. My father is signing his release papers and I have to take him home. But I wanted to see you before I left. I wanted to apologize for my father's behavior."

"No need to apologize for that, dear. You can't be angry at a man who just wants to protect what is precious to him."

"He's afraid you're going to press charges against him."

The thought hadn't even crossed his mind, but Belle always managed to make him a little less sharp around the edges. "I don't see that happening."

"Thank you."

"I never did get a proper look at the improvements you've done at the library. Perhaps," he glances down at their entwined hands and gathers courage from the sight, "perhaps I could stop by on Sunday afternoon for a tour?"

"That would be wonderful." She glances over her shoulder to make sure no one is looking, most likely her father, before leaning down a pressing a brief kiss to his cheek. "I will see you on Sunday then."

He watches her leave and realizes he has to work fast. Regina was right, when her memories come back she is either going to run to her father or Gaston. But if he convinces her that he loves her as desperately as he does, he might stand a chance of keeping her. He would have to work hard, be nice as she had scolded him earlier. He could do that, he would grit his teeth and be _nice_ because she requested it.

"Um, ex-excuse m-m-me, Mr. G-gold? I need to t-take your blood pressure n-now."

He keeps his eyes and mouth shut firmly as he produces his arm for the nurse. It was going to be a long night.


	10. A Proposal

**Dance of the Curse**

**Chapter Ten: A Proposal**

Moe French doesn't know what to say to his stormy faced daughter when she emerges from the hospital to join him on their walk back home. He had thought these days were behind him, days when he was stymied with his independent and lovely girl, when she grew out of her teenage years but apparently not. Her mouth was in a tight line, her jaw tense but her eyes were conflicted.

"I spoke with Mr. Gold and he says he's not going to press charges."

Moe nods and tries to look thankful but it doesn't surprise him that Gold is going to let this little scuffle slide. Jo still doesn't know the details of his first hospital stay and he wasn't about to divulge them. After his visit to Gold's pawnshop, after seeing the emotions Gold tried to hide when the subject of the chipped cup was broached, he knew the reason behind the rage. If Moe had his memories earlier, it would have been Gold who had been beaten within an inch of his life. How could he blame the man for loving Belle so much that he was willing to kill her murderer himself? And the thought brings him up short with a groan.

Rumplestiltskin really was in love with Belle. Which means Gold was really in love Jo. He knew it back in the pawnshop but the realization still took his breath away. He saw the way Jo had been clinging to Gold in the deserted library. Her hands on either side of his face, a beautiful smile on her face. She had looked genuinely happy and he was going to have to accept that.

_What Belle wants, Belle gets. _He just wishes she didn't want someone like Gold.

"I'm going to have to spend most of tomorrow in the library," Jo was saying. "Mr. Gold is stopping by on Sunday to see the improvements."

Moe's hands clenched into fists before the pain in his right hand prevents the motion. "Alright."

Jo's face softened slightly. "You told me that I would know when I loved someone."

"Oh, Jo-"

"He told me that he loved me before I went missing. Is that true?"

At least he could speak the truth and not have it be horrible. "I don't know, my girl. Gold tends to keep things to himself so it's difficult to say one way or another."

"Would he lie about something like that?"

He wants to say yes. He wants to make Gold out to be the black hearted snake that he always believed the man to be, but the image of them twined around each other and smiling stops him. "No, I don't think he would lie about something like loving you."

Her whole body language changes with his statement. She practically skips two steps and her grin boarders on giddy. She is happy and, as much as he hates to admit it, she is in love. But it is the most joyful he has seen her in so long that he can no longer fight against this realization as much as he wants to rail against it. At least he knows that Gold loves her and loves her enough to avenge her supposed death. She picks up his good hand in hers and practically glows under the streetlights.

"What can I do to convince you just how right it felt with him?"

Her joy is contagious and he is so thankful to see a genuine smile on her face, but he is still a father. "Jo, he's double your age."

She huffs indignantly. "Wasn't Mom much younger than you?"

Moe stops suddenly on the sidewalk. "You remember that?"

Her face goes serious and her eyes become unfocused, an attempt to see if any other memories might be called forth. "I do remember that. Mom was ten years your junior, wasn't she?"

"She was, you're right. Do you remember her?"

Jo fights for the memories but after a few minutes of concentration, she is forced to give up. "No, not really. Just a few glimpses of her face but that's all."

"Well," he looped an arm around her shoulder and they continued walking, "she did die when you were very young. Don't be discouraged."

That goofy grin came back on her face. "How can I be discouraged when I've found two men who love me so much?"

He presses a kiss to the crown of her head. "Just don't forget that I will always love you no matter what."

* * *

Jo looks around the library one last time. She had spent twelve hours straight yesterday painting all the walls and even finishing up the trim. Her father had brought her dinner after the sun went down and then helped her arrange some of the horribly out of date arm chairs in tucked away corners of the building. After a coma like night's sleep, she picked the only dress she owned, grabbed a cardigan and headed to the library.

That morning, she removed all the sheets that covered the tables and chairs, as well as the circulation desk in preparation of Mr. Gold's arrival. The books hadn't been touched yet but most of the hard physical work was done. The floors didn't come up as nice as she wanted and she briefly wonders if she should have asked Mr. Gold if green was an acceptable color for the walls. She hadn't had time to take the coverings off the windows either, figuring that would one of the last things to be done before the opening.

She hears the door open and smooths her dress, tugging at the skirts nervously. Suddenly she's more nervous about what Mr. Gold will think of the simple blue dress she was wearing and how she fixed her hair instead of paint color and furniture arrangement. She tries to remind herself that it was one kiss, one kiss that ended with a hospital stay for him and quite possibly meant much less than what she had worked up in her mind. She could hear the tap of his cane as he made his way through the lobby and the thought came to her that he may have loved before but that was when she had her memories. What if he didn't want a blank slate but the girl that he had first fallen in love with?

Jo's sudden nervousness vanished when Gold came into view and she saw the lingering bruise on his jaw. Even though she had an understanding of her father's protective streak, she didn't fully understand the extent of it in light of seeing the mark of violence in front her.

"I'm so sorry," she whispers.

He glances around the room, tense and wary, as if expecting an ambush. "For what?"

She steps forward and brushes her fingertips over the discolored portion of his face, carful not to cause him more pain. He relaxes slightly, turning his head and planting a soft kiss into her palm.

"War wound," he smiles before leaning down and gently pressing his lips to hers.

Jo wondered why she had been so nervous. That feeling of belonging, _rightness_, pushes away any and all doubt as she twines her arms around his neck, pulling herself closer to him. His hand splays across her back, encouraging her even closer. All to soon, he pulled back from the attention he was giving her lips but thankfully didn't release her from the safe harbor of his arms.

"I thought you wanted to see the library," Jo smiles up at him.

"I did see the library." He kisses her on the cheek. "And it is quite lovely," and he bends down, pressing another kiss directly under her ear, eliciting a shiver from her. "But I would much rather see the Librarian."

Her breath escapes her somewhere between a laugh and a gasp. "You'll still be charged for overdue books."

He laughs against the column of her neck. "My little book tyrant."

She pulls back from him sightly, just enough to encourage him to lift his head. She stares into his eyes, runs her fingers across the planes of his face, searching for something, anything familiar. "I really wish I could remember you."

Ever since she had opened her eyes after that first kiss, she had seen nothing but adoration and wonder in his face. But now, at her words, a sad, small smile tugged at his mouth. "And sometimes I wish you could too."

"And the other times?"

He leans forward and rests his forehead against hers. "And the other times I wish you would never remember."

"I would certainly like to remember exactly what it was that I did to make you look at me like that."

"And that is why you don't need your memories." His fingers mimick what her own had done and dance across her cheekbones. "I love you, just you."

She doesn't know why she wants to cry when he says those words. If feels as if her mind and body remember something but refuse to make her conscious self aware of it. Instead her eyes burn, her throat constricts and all she can do is kiss him again to show her gratitude for his kindness. She wonders how she ever could have thought something like this could have developed between her and Geoff. There was a fire contained in her ribcage, a possessive, tender little dragon of a thing that had awakened when he first kissed her and not before, never before.

He breaks away with a slight whimper. "Perhaps we should, uh, do some discussing of the library."

She has to laugh at the semi-dazed look on his face. "Yes, I think we should."

He finally looks around him, actually taking in his surroundings. "You finished all the painting."

"Yes, I did." Now that there was space between them, her nervousness returned. "I wasn't sure if I needed to get your approval on the paint color. I hope it's to your liking." She picked what she thought was a calming color of sage green but perhaps he had other ideas for the building.

"I think it's perfect."

Suddenly she had a sense that she could have painted the place purple with pink stripes and he would have thought it was perfect. "I'm going to get slipcovers for the chairs."

He stops by the small grouping of the overstuffed chairs and looks like he wants to poke at them with his cane. "Why don't we just get new chairs?"

"Slipcovers are cheaper."

He gives her an incredulous look but slips his arm around her waist, pulling her to his side. "When you close your eyes, what do you see in this space?"

She starts to tell him that this is his library, not hers and based on how he dressed, he probably had more taste in his pinky than she had in her entire body. But she looks up at his face and sees what he's trying to do. He's giving her a gift, a thank you, for what she's not entirely sure. So she does what he asks and closes her eyes. She tries to imagine this little back corner decorated with chairs but she is no interior decorator. Instead, she concentrates on the pressure of his hand on her back, the warmth of him standing next to her and a smile creeps across her face.

"I see a fireplace," she said, "with tall leather wingback chairs with individual reading lamps and an persian carpet." She feels his breath ghost across her cheek and she keeps her eyes closed, indulging in the mental image she has created and pretending that this is his home, and he's giving her part of her own space in his life. His lips press against her cheek and that little sleeping dragon in her rib cage wakes up and stretches.

Jo turns in his arms and presses her mouth firmly against his. She's dimly aware of hearing his cane clatter to the floor but she wraps her arms around him, taking the weight against her gladly. She opens her mouth under his and he deepens the kiss with a moan. It doesn't take long before the tenderness that they had started with turns toward desperation. Jo may not have memories but she trusts how her body reacts to this man, how it keens into his touch and longs for his proximity. She also trusts the emotion that runs through him, that causes him to tremble under her hands.

He pulls back from her with a gasp. "Marry me."

"Yes."

Her eyes snap open when she realizes what she's just agreed to and finds the same shock mirrored in his own brown eyes. Maybe he hadn't meant to say it and the thought troubles her far more than it should, but his arms tighten around her and hope starts to take root under the mask of shock.

"Will you?" He still looks flabbergasted. "Would you really?"

She doesn't know whether to laugh or cry at his expression, as if his entire life hangs on her answer. But how could she say no when she had found that small place in Storybrooke where she felt at peace and at home. But she's not a fool, she doesn't know him that well yet but she knows enough of what it is to be found when you are lost.

"Yes," she repeats, more mindful of the answer. The joy that breaks out on his face is almost painful to watch, as if he too had finally found his own way home. He moves in for another kiss but she holds up a finger and stops him. "But we have to tell my father."


	11. End of the Dance

**Dance of the Curse**

**Chapter Eleven: End of the Dance**

Her father hadn't taken the news of her sudden betrothal well but Jo had to give him credit for not tossing Mr. Gold out of his home. Mr. Gold, she shook her head with a small smile, after he had stated his intention of making Jo his wife, he had just stood there and grinned. But Jo had done a good job convincing her father that this was what she wanted, _needed._ She didn't expect having to convince Geoff of her decision but after a heated discussion in the abandoned library as she was sorting books, he too had come to understand the depth of her feelings.

"Are you sure about this, my girl?"

She gives her father a bright smile as she turns from the mirror, the full skirt of her dress swishing with the movement. It was the most simple wedding dress she could find, more of a sundress made of white satin that brushed her calves. But her father still needs reassurance so she hugs him. "Yes, Dad. I'm am sure."

"You can still back out."

She playfully slaps him on the shoulder and then straightens his tie, one he bought special for the occasion. "I may still not know who I really am, but I know this is what I want."

He pulls out a small velvet pouch from his suit jacket and hands it to her with shaking hands. "This was your mother's. She, uh, she wanted me to give this to you on this occasion."

Jo reaches in and pulls out a single pearl on a gold chain. She has no real memory of her mother but having this piece of the mother she lost so long ago means everything to her at this moment. "Thank you."

Her father chokes down his emotion and steadies his hands enough to fasten in around her neck. Once it's done, he takes a few moments to look at her and finally presses a kiss to her forehead. "Don't forget about your dear old Dad once you're a married woman, now."

She lays a hand on his cheek and one reaches up to clasp the pearl and all the air rushes out of her lungs. Memories come flooding back to her suddenly, mixed and jumbled puzzle pieces. Her father's arms catch her by her elbows as her knees wobble under the onslaught. Ogres...there's a lot of talk about ogres and their people dying. There's a Dark Castle that is filled with light, spinning wheels everywhere and a chipped cup.

"Papa." The word is so simple and so familiar as it falls from her lips.

"Belle?"

A sob breaks out from her chest and all she can do is nod her head. Yes, that is who she is, she is Belle. Daughter of Sir Maurice the merchant king. She closes her eyes as her father helps her into a chair.

"Belle, we can leave. There's a back door, I'll take you home. Just say the word."

She looks down at the white satin dress she's wearing, smoothing the wrinkles out from the fabric. "I'm getting married."

"Yes," her father snatches up both of her hands, "But you don't have to go through with it. We can leave."

She tries to pull information from two different lives and make sense of the moment but all it does is give her a headache. "Who am I marrying?"

Her father's joy turns momentarily sour. "Rumplestiltskin. He goes by Mr. Gold here."

Rumplestiltskin. She is set to marry Rumpelstiltskin. "He found me."

Her father misunderstands the comment and hauls her to her feet. "Then we'll go. We'll find a place where he can't find us."

"No," she gently pulls away from him. "No, this is a good thing, Papa."

"A good thing?" He looks defeated. "So, you do love him?"

"Yes. And he loves me." She holds her father's face between her hands. "It's true love." She tells him quickly of her time in the Dark Castle, the small kindnesses that Rumplestiltskin had shown her and finally the events of the day he let her go. She told him about the lady on the road, her return to the Castle and the kiss of true love that had started to break the Dark One's curse.

"It's difficult to argue against true love," he admitted grudgingly. "But are you sure, Belle? Are you sure you want to go through this now?"

He was right. She worried her lip for a moment and tried to organize the memories but there were too many that kept coming. There really was only one way to decide what to do. "Where is he?"

Her father tried to look confused but she recognized a stall when she saw one. "Who?"

"I want to talk to Rumplestiltskin. Where is he?"

* * *

There wasn't much else for him to do but wait until she came to her senses and called the whole thing off. Gold waited in the corner of the library where the new fireplace had been built and the leather chairs with their individual reading lights had been arranged. The library was set to open tomorrow morning with Joelle Gold as its librarian. That is, unless she realized what she was doing and decided to back out of the wedding. He promised himself to let her do it and be gracious about her decision.

"I really don't think you have anything to worry about, Mr. Gold."

Gold turned to Dr. Hopper and gave him a mild, incredulous look. "I'm a surly cripple who's double her age. You want to say that to me again?"

The good doctor just smiled with genuine warmth. "If I need to, yes. I counseled both of you when you came and asked me if I would marry you two. Trust me, you have nothing to worry about."

The sharp sound of heels on hardwood echoed through the library and Gold looked at his watch. They were still a half hour before the set time. Jo appeared around the corner and Gold forgot how his lungs were suppose to work. The dress was so simply cut but seeing her in white satin and knowing it was her wedding dress did odd things to him. He found himself teetering on the edge of throwing everyone out of the library just so he look at her without interruption or else running from her and this decision she was about to make that would tie her to him for life.

"May I have a word with Mr. Gold, please?"

Dr. Hopper stands. "Of course. I'll just be outside then."

Gold watches him leave and almost feels like he should tell the good doctor to head back to his office. She's finally come to her senses and is calling the whole thing off. He braces himself for her tears, for her apologies of leading him this far only to back out now. He stares at the floor, listening to her hesitant footsteps, until he sees her painted pink toes in the strappy white heels. Even her feet are perfect.

"Please, look at me," she pauses, taking in a deep breath, "Rumplestiltskin."

His head snaps up, his eyes immediately on her face. Her eyes are much clearer than he has seen them, no longer hazed and dulled by the curse. A smile is trying to take over her face but she is fighting it. "What did you call me?"

"Rumplestiltskin," she repeats.

"Belle?"

She nods, a wide smile escaping from her efforts to hold it back. He's not sure which one of them moved first, but she's in his arms, laughing, crying and shaking. Or is that him? He can feel words being whispered against his neck but he can't hear them and is forced to take a step back. Belle's hands rest on his cheeks, trace along his jawline.

"You found me," she whispered. "You found me and were taking care of me even when I didn't remember."

"I didn't know you were even alive until a few months ago."

"Regina-"

"I know." His hands settled in her loose, chestnut curls. "I am so sorry."

"Shh." She leans up on her toes but then retreats. "Am I allowed-"

He cuts her off by claiming her mouth with his. She's here, Belle has finally been returned to him and isn't yelling at him, accusing and anger. Instead, she is dressed for their wedding, in his arms and kissing him senseless. Someone cleared their throat and Gold pulled to see Moe French and Dr. Hopper standing there.

"You do realize," Dr. Hopper spoke up, "it doesn't count until I say it does."

Belle laughs but turns to him, smiling and whispers in his ear. "You asked Joelle French to marry you but will you have me instead?"

"If you will have me."

She nods and Gold waves Hopper and Belle's father over to the fireplace. He hoped Dr. Hopper would make it brief. All he really wanted was to kiss her again, knowing he wasn't kissing Joelle French but rather his Belle. And he wasn't sure if he would be able to stop.

* * *

Belle kicks off her heels and flexes her toes in the soft grass. She has just said good bye to her father and watched him walk away towards his home, three blocks over. He promised to stop by the library tomorrow to see her on her first day as a married woman and Storybrooke's librarian. She carries her heels in one hand as she walks through Rumplestiltskin's home and into the backyard once more. She and her new husband were surprised to find the backyard to be decked in paper lanterns and various tables and chairs while Mrs. Lucas and her granddaughter Ruby provided food. Not many people showed, of course, but a few did and Belle was glad to share her joy with some of the inhabitants of the town.

Now, it was just her and her husband. He was standing at the bottom of the porch stairs, waiting for her and when she reached him, he drew her into his arms. There was no music to dance to but that didn't stop them from gently swaying together. Belle rests her head on his shoulder and closes her eyes, suddenly weary after a day of memories and vows.

"Tired, dearie?"

She laughs slightly. "Aren't you?"

"Not in the slightest."

"Well, you rarely every slept, or ate for that matter."

"What made you remember?"

Belle lifts her head and lays a hand across the pearl. "My father gave me my mother's necklace to wear. When he put it on, everything came back."

"Just in time, too."

She regards him face seriously. "You really were ready to marry me even though I didn't remember you?"

"You were still you, deep down. I knew the memories would come eventually. Then I would have worry about how you felt getting your memories back and finding yourself married to a monster."

"Hm," she smiles coyly, "I see you're still you as well. How many times am I going to have to tell you that you're not a monster?"

"Let's start with once a day and go from there."

"Fine," she presses her lips briefly to his. "You're not a monster."

He gives her a very serious look. "I'm still not convinced. You might have to try again."

"You're not a monster," she repeats and kisses him slowly, languidly. "Convinced now?"

"I think I may need some more convincing."

"Alright then," she steps back from him, breaking his hold on her and takes his hand, leading him into the house. "This level of convincing isn't appropriate for the great out-of-doors."

She knows there's still so much to talk about and discuss. He still owes her the story of his son and how they came to be in Storybrooke, Maine. She knows enough about him and how he works to know there is most likely a connection between the two. She knows there is a war about to erupt, having been through one before in her life, she can see the beginning rumblings for what they are.

But tonight, this one night, she knows is just for them and she intends to finally prove to him just how much she loved him.

THE END


End file.
